


Becoming

by softieghost



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (kind of), Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Otabek Altin, Clothed Sex, Drunk Sex, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Public Sex, Top Yuri Plisetsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softieghost/pseuds/softieghost
Summary: He could have sworn he was sober. He could have blown a zero in a breathalyzer. He could have said the alphabet forwards and backwards in three languages and still he wouldn’t believe that he wasn’t drunk when he looked back on what they were doing – something so foolish that only lovers could think it up.





	Becoming

The bass beat thrummed in Otabek’s chest as he gripped the edges of the counter in the club bathroom. A part of him was nauseous, not just from the alcohol, but from the openness of it all. Afterwards, he maintained that the guy wasn’t a bad person and that it was just bad – too hard, over too fast, and that was true but in the moment he could only wonder why anyone would chose this over the other way around. His fingers bit into the counter, grimy and in need of a wash, as he flagged – too drunk, too dizzy, too hot all over to focus on anything other than the man behind him and the locked door keeping them private. He never got his name.

When he came out to his family they smiled, tight lipped, and said that it was okay. It took them a while to be able to smile about it with their teeth showing but eventually Mama hugged the boyfriends he would bring home and she would mean it wholeheartedly. The thought of opening himself up to his family still made him nervous, though, remembering when his drunken older brother had once asked him which one was the girl in the relationship.

Sometimes he dated girls, too, and he knew his friends didn’t mind even though they were friendlier with the wide-smiled, glitter-eyed, long-haired beauties that trailed after him. He didn’t think of himself as a ladies man and balked at the idea when the term got thrown around. He’s only a kid, really.

And then he met Yuri, again, and the world didn’t shine any brighter than it had the day before. It was just as cold and disconnecting, it was hard, and sometimes it was warm and kind, but mostly his world stayed icy. Only now there was a little yellow cat twining between his legs leaving trails of paw prints and cat hair behind them, a road into the past he could follow if he wanted even though the cat so often sprinted ahead of him.

He told a boy with brown curly hair, always tied up in a bun, that he loved him a year after he met Yuri. He’d never said it to anyone before. The boy was nice and silent, like him, and a bit of a prankster. He was a painter on a scholarship to the best school in Almaty with a bright future ahead of him. Otabek let him do whatever he wanted, including himself, and it was nice. He still preferred being on top but he loved this boy so he opened himself up – sexually, emotionally, physically, in all manners he never thought he would.

Eventually the boy left.

He was replaced by a girl with long black hair and a full face of makeup from the crack of dawn to the darkest midnight. She liked to go to the club he worked at on weekends when he had time. He never loved her but they got along well, even after they broke up.

This spiraled, outwards and maddening, until the rumors became true and Yuri became his. It wasn’t with a whimper but with a drunken, fumbling bang. Yuri grabbed him by his shirt and swore in his face and kissed him in the dead silence of a hotel room. Yuri became the only noise in his mind. Yuri became the feeling of blood in his heart. Yuri became everything. Yuri just _became,_ he shifted his weight and with one look changed everything until Otabek wasn’t sure which way was up anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri was drunk. Drunker than ever. He was drunk and wiggling around on the back of Otabek’s motorcycle as they sped down the road to Otabek’s apartment. They only had a few days left together so Otabek had taken Yuri to his club so they could dance and shout and sing and make drunken eyes at each other under the laser lights and the smell of sweat and spilled drinks. Otabek’s boots were sticky from the club floor even though he had been in the DJ booth for most of it so he could only image how uncomfortable Yuri must be, tacky with dried perspiration and the drink he’d dropped down his front when someone bumped into him.

That wasn’t why he was wiggling, though.

Yuri’s hands slid lower and lower down Otabek’s torso, towards his crotch, and _oh god_ Otabek was too sober for this. He’d stopped drinking much sooner than Yuri had and he grabbed fries from the bar next door to eat in the booth and he’d pounded water back like there was no tomorrow so he was clear headed, if tired, while his drunken boyfriend tried to give him a hand job as they zipped through a long stretch of woods on their way back into his part of the city.

“I’m driving!” Otabek shouted, hoping Yuri would hear it through their helmets and through the wind but knowing he probably wouldn’t.

Otabek slowed, thankful that there were no other vehicles around them in the late hour, and pulled Yuri’s hands up to his waist, driving with one hand which always made him nervous.

 The droning roar of Otabek’s bike poured out into the empty night. They had naught but trees and ticking reflectors in the guard rail for company. It was too late for anyone else to be driving, especially out this way, on the other side of the city from which he lived because he needed distance from the rink in a literal sense, too. Otabek liked the drive – it was just long enough to become too long, which was the right length after a hard day, and it was mostly wooded and the drive back was almost always silent enough to hurt his head after he adjusted to the loud music of his club. This, too, was right.

The only other person he liked seeing on this trip was Yuri, behind him, blonde hair whipping in the wind.

Right now, though, in this moment, Yuri’s hand were creeping downwards again and Otabek knew nothing would make him stop. They still had half an hour to go until they could stumble up three flights of stairs and crash down into Otabek’s bed which was too small for two people, especially when one slept like a starfish. As Yuri’s hands danced down towards Otabek’s black belt he pressed his chest closer and rested the front of his helmet against the back of Otabek’s. If he could feel it he would take just half a second to enjoy Yuri’s hot breath on his neck before making him pull back. As it were he let Yuri’s head rest against his but once again pulled his hands away. He wasn’t really in the mood to crash.

Yuri wiggled and squeezed hard around Otabek’s stomach, their sign for “slow down” or “stop”. Otabek sighed, knowing he was just going to have to argue with Yuri for fifteen minutes about why road head was 1) stupid in general and 2) impossible on a bike before hauling him back into the seat and speeding off again.

Otabek pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, slowing down to a stop and shoved the kickstand down before turning and ripping his helmet off. He put on his best scowl, one that was deeper than his resting face, and stared at Yuri – a black bobble head in the night with his helmet still on. Yuri didn’t seem to move so Otabek took his helmet off of him, slowly, carefully, and dropped it on the ground once Yuri’s face was uncovered. Even in the night he could see the redness of Yuri’s skin and how wet his eyes were. Otabek’s heart dropped into his gut.

“Yura, what’s wrong?” His voice cut through the silent night.

Yuri sniffed and looked away, turning his curtain of hair to Otabek’s face. He was still drunk enough to wobble at the change in balance even though he his legs were long enough to reach the ground – he just wasn’t holding himself up.  

“I…I don’t know. I just was thinking about leaving and how much this all fucking sucks and how…how much I just love you and then I, I got all weepy and it’s dumb but I just really love you.”

Yuri sounded small and embarrassed which Otabek didn’t really get – they told each other they loved one another all the time. It was daily, especially when the distance felt deep and uncrossable. He turned Yuri’s face towards him, holding onto his jaw, rubbing circles into his skin with his thumb and kissed him. They were perched on the bike, still, and it was awkward because the bike was leaning to one side and Otabek was turned in his seat but the kiss felt sweet and tender and promising so all of the struggle was worth it.

Yuri grabbed Otabek’s face and pulled him, rather hard, into a deeper kiss.

“I love you.” Yuri said into Otabek’s mouth, making him smile. Yuri talked through their kisses a lot – like his words bubbled up from his throat and he couldn’t keep them in check so he just spilled them without care onto the ground and into Otabek and into the air until they were gone.

“I love you so fucking much Beka. You have no idea.” He continued to say between kisses.

Otabek turned himself fully, swiveling so they were facing each other. He had one boot on the ground, holding himself up on the tilted bike. Yuri’s feet stomped into the ground so he could shove himself forward, into Otabek’s space. Their kisses went from careful to painfully deep and threatening with Yuri’s shift. They were up against one another and Otabek could feel Yuri growing hard in his pants and he wasn’t able to hide that he was a little hard, too, out here in the hills of Kazakhstan.

If he was a romantic, which he was, he would describe Yuri’s hair as starlight or sunlight even though it was brighter than the dull silver specks in the sky. And he could call his eyes emeralds but they were clearer and more beautiful than any gem even when they were half closed with alcohol and lust. His lips could have been cherry sweet but Otabek hated cherries and loved Yuri so that was out, too. He might be romantic but he wasn’t always the most poetic so his brain popped and fizzled like an opened soda until he was flat and empty and full of nothing but Yuri’s _becoming_ in the midnight.

Yuri moaned into Otabek’s mouth. He was almost out of words, able only to squeeze out a few more.

“Can we?” He panted, trusting Otabek to understand everything he wanted and needed.

Otabek was sober but, he reminded himself, Yuri was drunk. On top of that they were out in the open, perched on a bike on the side of a road that overlooked the city. The trees on the other side of the road hid them from the mountain that grew up out of the ground but that same ground dropped off into a cliff. The guard rail kept them safe, but not from the eyes of the city looking up and the passersby in cars.

“What do you want?” The ‘specifically’ was implied. Just as Yuri trusted him he trusted Yuri to get it without words.

“I want to fuck you.”

Otabek knew what Yuri meant – they’d talked about it a couple of times. In their time together they hadn’t done it that way, as Yuri would say, because Otabek just wasn’t into it. He’d done it before, both with his ex-boyfriend and the mysterious stranger in the old club, and it had left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Beka, please, let me fuck you.” Yuri was panting into his neck. His fly was already undone – when had that happened – and he was pawing at Otabek’s crotch, feeling along where his dick was straining at the seam.

Otabek looked at Yuri. He was so goddamned beautiful, even drunk and heavy-eyed, that Otabek nearly said yes right on the spot. Instead he bit his lip, mulling it over. This was a bad idea. Yuri had a lot of bad ideas but this was particularly dangerous – it was out in public, something he hadn’t done in a long time, something he wasn’t sure he wanted again, something that could go wrong.

Yuri noticed the hesitation and pulled back. His face was swimming in itself – he looked like is right half and left half were going for two different expressions.

“You can say no. I…fuck, sorry. I’m sorry. Let’s go home.” Yuri pulled back, worrying at his lip the same way Otabek just had. His face got red, again, and he leaned down to grab his helmet from the dust. His wrist stuck out of his jacket and looked small and delicate against the black leather he was wearing. Otabek grabbed his hand before he could reach the forgotten helmet and pulled him up, kissing the inside of his arm and his palm and each of his fingertips. He pulled Yuri close to him, again, and kissed his mouth and his neck under the jacket collar, and unzipped him until he could ruck up his shirt and kiss him square over his heart.

“This is a bad idea.”

“Beka, have I ever had a good idea?”

“Yeah. Just not this. Let’s do it.”

Yuri’s hands dug into his undercut that he only kept shaved at this point because he loved the way Yuri’s nails felt on his scalp as they crashed together again. The kiss was electric. They were pressed together again, chest to chest, belly to belly, dick to dick in their pants. Any car going by was going to get a bit of a show but Otabek was no longer thinking about that because Yuri Goddamned Plisetsky was in his arms, hot and alive and wiggling because he had never learned to sit still. The air smelt like pine and apples and motor oil. Yuri was perfume and deodorant and leather while Otabek was sweat and glitter.

 Yuri’s hands were hot under Otabek’s shirt as they moved up to feel his pecs and his nipples. Yuri’s lower back was hot, too, under Otabek’s hands. Yuri was kissing him so hard he thought he might taste blood in the morning so he kissed back as hard as he could to return the favor. They bit into each other, pressed together, moaning into each other, completely absorbed in the other as they began to expose themselves to the city below them.

The light from the skyscrapers guided their movements – Otabek pushing back into Yuri’s arms all while Yuri began to pull back, to start their transition of positions. Their feet ground down into the gravel at the side of the road and then they were tumbling down, arm in arm, until they could only stumble to stay upright, all four legs on one side of the bike.

Yuri pushed Otabek off the bike and walked him back to the guard rail, built up and out of the side of the cliff. Their kisses got sloppier and their panting got louder. Yuri was mumbling into Otabek’s mouth but he didn’t know what he was saying because he could only hear the pounding of blood in his head at this point.

He could have sworn he was sober. He could have blown a zero in a breathalyzer. He could have said the alphabet forwards and backwards in three languages and still he wouldn’t believe that he wasn’t drunk when he looked back on what they were doing – something so foolish that only lovers could think it up.

Otabek’s hands were spiderwebbed on the guard rail, too low to stand, knees in the dirt, as Yuri kissed the back of his neck. His pants were loose and then dropped, leaving him cold in the mountain air. His cock was free, hard and aching as Yuri fished around in his purse for lube. Otabek used to joke that it was stupid of him to carry it around, that they weren’t going to have sex outside of their apartments _ever_ , and yet here he was, grateful for Yuri’s precociousness.

Anticipation ran through him, icy hot.

“God, baby, I love you. I fucking love you.” Yuri was rambling behind him as he dropped his bag and knelt down behind Otabek.

“I love you too.”

Yuri was touching him again, finally, dropping his hands down to Otabek’s ass. Yuri fondled him for a moment, possibly to be funny but it did feel good after all so Otabek wasn’t going to smirk back at him even though he knew Yuri was looking for it.

His fingers were wet with lube. One hand circled around to his front and the other stayed where it was, feeling around his ass with careful precision. Otabek panted at the teasing – he might have been nervous but now with arousal blushing across his face he wanted it, badly, and he wanted it to be with Yuri, and he just wanted deep down in his core because he was greedy for his boyfriend whom he loved and trusted and lusted after. He was so many things all at once that his head felt like it was full of the bike’s roar once again. In reality, though, the only sound was Yuri’s mouth kissing his neck and shoulders where his collar was stretched down and the occasional caw of a bird.

Yuri pushed a finger inside. He was slow but still it felt weird – it really had been a long time since he had done this, even with just himself as witness. As Yuri worked a rhythm deep inside him, one hand matching the other, he almost kind of got it. Maybe he had done this before but he never looked for it himself – he bent over for someone else twice in the past, once to try it and again because he kinda-loved the person he was doing it with but now, in this fucked up little spot on the side of the road, something was different.

Yuri’s fingers were long like a pianist’s but his hands were strong and sure and willed pleasure into him. The second finger made his breath hitch but Yuri kept going, trusting without words once again. Yuri’s hand on his cock pumped up and down steadily and slowly, keeping him aroused and interested and on the edge of furious pleasure as he worked him up from the other end, too.

Their breath came out in tandem now, like they were breathing for the same reason. Maybe they were.

“You okay?” Yuri whispered into his hair, as if there was a point to being quiet like this.

“Keep going.”

All the cold air around them, up in the mountains, couldn’t cool the magma threatening to bubble up out of Otabek as he clutched the guard rail and allowed himself to really enjoy this for the first time. Already it was different from all the rest – his hands clutched something dirty but he loved the man behind him, and trusted him, and maybe he was on the bottom but he knew he was going to enjoy it this time around because he was already so, so hard from just two fingers that slowly became three. He knew he was becoming something else just as Yuri had become.

Yuri was drunkenly rutting against him as he worked him open. His coordination was going down the drain even as he sobered – lust and exhaustion and just the simple act of fucking in the open was pushing Yuri to hurry, a little, but Otabek wasn’t scared. He was absolutely living proof that sureness could lead you down the right path, even when it looked like some kind of foolhardy mistake.   

Yuri worked him open, stretching him, using his precome as lube against his cock as he jerked him off in tandem.

The guard rail was warm now. His knees hurt from pebbles digging into his skin through his jeans. He was wet mouthed and breathing hard. The city sprawled underneath him and his stomach turned around inside of him in such a gut-wrenching pleasure that he pushed back against Yuri for the first time.

“Fuck, please.” He gasped.

“So eloquent.” Yuri laughed at him but pulled his fingers free and reached out for the lube again.

Otabek turned to watch Yuri where he was kneeling. “Yura, we’re about to have very public anal sex in a country where I’m known as a literal hero. Sorry for not being poetic.”

“God I love it when you whisper sweet nothings in my ear.”

Otabek turned back to look over his city. He really was known as a hero down there even though he wasn’t really in agreement with the title. His Olympic silver had made the title a little easier to swallow but he was sure this was about to tarnish his record indefinitely. He welcomed it.

Yuri leaned forward, kissed the back of Otabek’s neck, and began to press inside.

He knew it was going to be different from just fingers but even still he leaned away from the feeling for a moment, trying to get used to it. With his forearms braced on the rail and his legs spread wide on the side of the road he stalled, making Yuri lean in further until he was all but pressed against the metal in front of him.

Yuri kissed him again and held onto his waist, like he would on the back of the bike that just barely blocked them from the eyes of any cars driving by, and pressed in again. He went slow, so horribly slow, not stopping until he was fully inside. As Yuri began to thrust Otabek whined out, wound up, and breathed heavy at the sensation. He felt hot and on the cusp of almost-pain that slowly melted away into almost-pleasure.

The ember that had begun to burn inside of him grew hotter and brighter until it became a forest fire, turning him smoky and charred from the inside out. He pushed back against Yuri’s hips and felt the top of Yuri’s jeans awkwardly slung across the bottom half of his ass, teeth biting into his skin. He felt it and still kept pushing back as Yuri fucked him.

Yuri kept one hand on his belly and the other on his cock, lazily jerking him off but focusing most of his energy on keeping his hips moving in and out. Otabek’s legs spread even wider under the pressure of his boyfriend’s weight. If he was more flexible he’d go down farther to try and make the position less awkward but he wasn’t, all he was was brute strength and determination, so he bent his head back to rest against Yuri’s shoulder.

They both looked over Almaty from the road, bent double against the rail, and made love while they fucked.

“Goddamnit, baby, I’m close.” Yuri breathed, nibbling at his ear. Otabek didn’t mind if Yuri came first but he didn’t want this to end – it was so good and so different and so unexpected. He dropped his hand from the rail and moved Yuri’s up and down faster over his cock, forcing Yuri’s hand into a tighter circle. They both kept their hands there, almost interlacing their fingers, almost romantic. This whole situation was nearly sweet, not quite sappy, full of love even though it was dirty.

“I love you.” Otabek said through gritted teeth.

Yuri came inside of him. Yuri would never admit it but he was weak for that kind of thing – small gestures and daily affirmations. He’d cried over flowers once, alone in his apartment when Otabek sent them on a whim from a different country.

Yuri kept going through his orgasm, kept his hand on Otabek’s cock and under Otabek’s hand, until Otabek was close too. The fire consumed him, changed him, and he became too, hard and fast and against dirty metal.

 

* * *

 

 

Looking back he would never say the stranger in the club was a bad person. It was just bad sex. He maintained that his ex-boyfriend had never done anything wrong when he asked Otabek to bottom – Otabek was always willing, and happy, it just wasn’t his favorite thing to do in bed.

But something had changed.

Yuri had reached into his heart and twisted it around so it was facing the right way. He no longer had to have his guard up, he didn’t need the protection of anonymity or the safety of being on top in order to love, he just needed Yuri’s hands on him and Yuri’s words inside him and Yuri’s body next to him in bed. He had become, too.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> find me on tumblr under the same name


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